


To love what death can touch

by wolfypuppypiles



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Stupid Boys, Whump, Worried Clarke, Wounds, bellamy's a boob, gross stuff, infections, worried octavia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6578563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfypuppypiles/pseuds/wolfypuppypiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy tried to concentrate on what his sister was saying but his spinning head made it difficult to process anything. <br/>“I’m serious Bell, you look really sick. You can’t hide this anymore, you have to tell her.”</p><p>Bellamy hides injuries he really shouldn't</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'Tis a fearful thing to love what death can touch.

Bellamy tried to concentrate on what his sister was saying but his spinning head made it difficult to process anything. 

“I’m serious Bell, you look really sick. You can’t hide this anymore, you have to tell her.”

She was referring to the gash on his shoulder he had been hiding from Clarke for a week. He had been hunting a boar and gotten head butted by the beast, sending one of its tusks a few inches into his shoulder. The wound hadn’t been big and he had patched it up by himself instead of bothering Clarke about it. He realized now what a big mistake that had been. 

Octavia had been helping him clean it and hadn’t ratted him out but now that it was so clearly infected she was backing out of her promise not to tell. 

But he couldn’t tell Clarke. The only reason he’d been able to hide it was because she was so busy training Monty and a few other kids in medical care. As soon as he admitted that he was sick and injured she would tell him off and go on a rant about how stupid and reckless he was. 

The wound throbbed and he winced as Octavia looked further worried. 

“Bellamy please, go see her. It could be serious, you’ve already got a fever and the wound isn’t healing.” 

It had started out as pain and swelling, which turned into heat from the wound and a fever, then there had been pus and all sorts of disgusting ooze. But the red streaks from the wound, trailing their way towards his neck, was what worried him most. And he felt like shit.  
The soldier looked at his sister again, realizing she was calling his name. She looked really worried. Maybe he should tell Clarke. She’d take care of him, she’d know what to do and she’d make him feel better. Before he could do anything though, Octavia stuck her head out of his tent, the rest of her body visible to him as though she had been momentarily decapitated. 

He thought she might have yelled something because his headache got worse. It was like his brain was too big for his skull and was trying to burst from his head. He lifted his good arm to cover an ear. 

“Too loud O.” Her head reappeared in the tent and she knelt in front of him and tugged his hand down from his head. The tent flap opened again and this time it was Clarke who entered, looking panicked. 

The two girls were talking and the Blake could hear Clarke asking questions but didn’t really focus on what they were until his sister started pulling his shirt off.

“Stop ‘Tavia, that hurts.”

“We have to show Clarke now Bell, just sit still okay.”

He frowned at his sister and tried wriggling out of her grasp but it hurt his arm to move that way and Clarke was gripping him, forcing him to still.

He heard his princess gasp and looked up to her horrified face before she started yelling towards the entrance of the tent.

Honestly he was sick of the yelling and just wanted to sleep but Clarke was freaking out and Octavia had started to cry. Bellamy dazedly took his sisters hand and held it to his cheek. He was trying to comfort her but she started crying harder as she added another cool hand to his burning skin. 

“Oh Bellamy you’re burning up. I should have told Clarke sooner.” His tired brain couldn’t make the words mean anything and so he closed his eyes and hummed as he pressed his baby sister’s cold hands to his cheeks. 

There were suddenly other hands on him and Octavia’s disappeared. Opening his eyes revealed Clarke back in the tent with Miller and Raven, who turned out to be the ones grabbing him. They were lifting him onto his shaky feet and pulling him out of his cosy tent. But Bellamy didn’t want to leave. He wanted to sleep. 

Even the thought of fighting off their strong hands was exhausting and so the soldier allowed himself to be lead, his heavy boot dragging through the dirt as they practically carried him. He still didn’t know what was happening but Clarke was talking to Monty as they all walked to the drop-ship. She was giving him a list, he thought, and the kid sent a worried glance to his fearless and feverish leader before running off. 

Miller and Raven took him to a bed in the drop-ship that Clarke used as their med bay. Bellamy was just happy he didn’t have to go on the table. He didn’t like that table. 

Clarke was in front of him again and she lent over to look at the wound before reaching for his face. Her careful fingers searched his jaw and found what she was looking for. She didn’t look happy though. He thought she might have sworn. 

“Naughty words Clarke.”

Octavia sat beside him and took his hand in hers. 

“Bell be quiet.” 

Monty and Jasper came into the drop-ship just as Miller and Raven were told to leave. Clarke was running around grabbing things and throwing them into a pot, grabbing bandages and flowers. She looked busy, maybe he should come back another time. Bellamy only remembered she was here for him when she looked at him as she stirred whatever was in the pot. 

Her eyebrows were creased and she had her lips pressed together. She was worried. 

Octavia was talking to him again and he dragged his eyes away from the medic to look at his sister.

“Lie down, she’ll fix you up soon.”

He liked the idea of lying down, that meant he could sleep. Clarke came over and said something about elevation, stacking a few badly made pillows so he was more half sitting then laying down. His eyes drooped and he felt a hand in his hair and a blanket being draped over him. Someone, his sister probably, kissed his forehead, making him smile seconds before he fell into the black.

Clarke looked desperately to where Bellamy had just fallen asleep. He had lymphangitis. She had taken one look at the red streaks coming from the wound and known. She thought Bellamy was smart enough to tell her when he got hurt but apparently she had overestimated his intelligence because this was bad. Really bad. Hiding an injury is one thing, hiding an injury till it got infected and still hiding it was worse.   
When Octavia had started yelling that she needed the camps medic Clarke had worried about what it would be but she never thought it would be this. Bellamy had been delirious, sick as she’d ever seen him and thick as a tree stump because he should have told her.

Lymphangitis was bad, she wasn’t even sure if she could fix this. She had only known what it was because her mother had treated someone for it on the Ark. But the person had died. Clarke almost wanted to throw up. What chance did Bellamy have if her mother, a real doctor with real medical equipment and resources and medicine, couldn’t cure this?

Clarke shook the bad thoughts away and focused to the tea she was making. She would have to make this tea the strongest she’d ever made, with as much of that seaweed as she could. She had some other plants for swelling and pain that he would need too.

Leaving the tea to boil Clarke dipped a rag in the hot water and came over to the Blake siblings. The medic dabbed the hot cloth gently onto the wound, grateful that it was mostly well cleaned.

“Octavia grab me the moon shine? And there are rags on the table too, we need to get some cool compresses on him to get this fever under control.”

Octavia did as she was asked and gestured to the red lines on her brother’s skin. 

“Are those bad?” Clarke didn’t want to tell Octavia how bad it was, how she might not be able to save him, but she couldn’t give her false hope.

“Yes. This is worse than an infection. Lymphangitis is an inflammation of the lymphatic system, which is a major component of the immune system. If he had hidden it much longer he could have developed sepsis. He still might.”

Octavia’s lip shook as she wiped a cold cloth over her brother’s forehead.

“I’m sorry Clarke. You were busy and he didn’t want to bother you with it, you know how he is. He said it wasn’t too bad and he was cleaning it properly but….I should have told you straight away.”

Clarke shook her head.

“Yes you should have. It’s my job to take care of you guys, I don’t care if I’m busy, you have to tell me when someone gets hurt. He always does this. Next time he comes back from a hunt I’m just going to examine him myself because apparently he never learns his lesson. I can’t trust him with his own health.”

Octavia winced and Clarke shook her head. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just worried. I don’t know if I can fix this.”

Octavia’s throat closed up at that, and her sight blurred so much with her tears that she couldn’t see her own hand on her brother’s forehead. 

She let out a sob. “Please Clarke. You have to save him, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you just please. I can’t lose him.”

Clarke swallowed her own tears and nodded. She would do everything she could to save Bellamy because she couldn’t lose him either.


	2. a fearful thing to love, to hope, to dream, to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so so sorry this has taken so long I dont really have any excuses except that writing block sucks sory this is crap please dont hate me

Octavia sat beside her brother’s bed and wiped the cool, dripping cloth over his burning forehead. Her stupid, stubborn, deathly sick brother. She cursed herself every time he winced or coughed because she had helped him cover it up. 

He hadn’t wanted to tell Clarke and she had let him hide it regardless of the stupid excuses he’d thrown her way. “She’s busy, I shouldn’t bother her. It’s not that bad I can take care of it. It’s just a scratch.” Ass hole. 

He never was good at accepting help but this had gone too far. The only reason she had known was because they had been sharing a tent. (To stop her from getting into trouble with boys in her tent. He was so overprotective at times.) She should have told Clarke. Maybe if she had Bellamy wouldn’t be so sick. 

Clarke came back into the room with some new plants she had just collected with Monty. 

“Don’t.” The blonde said the word as a command ad Octavia lifted her head quizzically.

“Don’t mope about what would have happened, there’s no point. This is happening and we need to focus on what our next steps will be.”

Octavia knew Clarke blamed her and she ducked her head, embarrassed. Monty came in, holding the same bundle of plants Clarke had, various leaves and flowers draping over his arms as he tried to hold them all. The boy walked to Clarke at one of the benches and had his hands flying, sorting out the plants and their uses but his eyes were fixed on the siblings. 

“Is he okay? I mean-how’s he doing?” 

Octavia watched Clarke's tense shoulders, her back to the Blake’s, and sighed, trailing the cloth along her brother’s skin. 

“Still asleep. His fever isn’t getting any better but I don’t think it’s worse either.”

Monty’s voice was high and tight with forced cheer.

“That’s good. I’d count that as a win.”

Octavia sniffed, nodding half-heartedly. 

Clarke turned suddenly, giving both Octavia and Monty a fright, and marched over to the cot. Her quick hands tugged the blanket aside to reveal Bellamy’s bare chest but for all her rage, which was evident in the leader’s stern face and loaded silence, Clarke’s hands were gentle against the sick boys skin. The angry red lines creeping towards Bellamy’s heart were clearly visible against his pale pallor and Clarke grunted in anger and frustration, her words coming from behind clenched teeth. 

“They’re getting closer to his heart. He needs more antibiotics.” 

Clarke marched back to the table and started shuffling through the plants with greater vigor. Monty turned back to the table and peeked at Clarke’s expression. She was biting her lip, tears dripping to the table even as she furrowed her brows in anger. 

“Clarke?” The girl kept her hands moving, pulling stems off flowers and leaves apart, wiping her face with the back of her arm between movements. Monty placed a hand over hers to still them.

Clarke stopped moving, her words whispered and desperate. “I’m using every plant and treatment I can think of but- I don’t know if they are going to do any good. My mom treated someone for this on the Ark and they died. What am I supposed to do? What am I going to do without him?”

Monty felt tears prick his eyes at seeing his friends so helpless but blinked them back with fierce determination, his hand squeezing Clarke's. 

“We’ll fix him. You aren’t alone Clarke. We can talk to Lincoln maybe he’ll have some ideas. And hey, the plants down here have had a hundred years to mutate, they’ve got to have crazy healing powers by now.” 

Clarke let a small smile show to this brilliant boy with his smart mind and kind heart. 

“Thanks Monty.” 

He nodded going back to the plants as Clarke made the tea. Once all the plants were in and it had boiled for a while, Clarke took a cup and filled it, dipping some cloths into the red water too. She brought them both over to the Blake siblings and gestured to Octavia to pull back the blanket.

Clarke didn’t know what to feel, her head was whirling with different emotions. She hoped the tea would work, with so many plants and natural medicines she had a chance to save Bellamy. But she had no idea if they would work, her mother had had access to real medical equipment and real medicine, not to mention she was an actual doctor and the person still died. Swallowing her worry she looked at Bellamy’s face. He was pale with dark rings under his eyes but his cheeks were flush with fever. His chest rose and fell in quick shallow pants, the red streaks on his chest angry and sinister as they clawed their way to his heart. 

The medic took a deep breath. She would save him. She could do it. He was already half sitting up thanks to the padding behind him in an effort to elevate him to relieve his struggled breathing and to slow infection, so she simply placed a hand behind his head and tipped it forward a little. 

“Bellamy, I’m going to give you some tea and I need you to swallow it. It won’t taste nice but its going to help you feel better.”  
She didn’t know if he could hear her but she hoped it would calm him if he could. 

Bringing the cup to his lips she tipped the reddish-brown liquid down his throat, sighing with relief when it went down easy. She gave him the whole cup and then asked Monty to fetch some clean water, knowing they had to keep him hydrated. 

Octavia was brushing her hands through her brother’s hair as he started to stir and Clarke bit her lip, hoping the next part wouldn’t hurt. She brought the tea soaked cloths to his chest and squeezed them over the wound, letting the tea drip into in the hopes that it would help with direct contact and entry. Bellamy made a small noise of discomfort but his eyes remained closed so she used the cloth to dab at the wound, cleaning away the gunk. 

Bellamy’s good arm swung weakly, trying to fend off his medic, as he grunted in irritation. Clarke grabbed his hand and held it as she finished cleaning. He squeezed her hand back and Clarke had to fight off a smile at his warm touch. He was still too warm but his soft grip was so innocent and gentle from what she had seen from him in the past. Those rough hands had been used to hunt, kill, build, and now they were as clumsy as a child’s and wouldn’t let go of her fingers. 

Monty came back with the clean water and fed some to Bellamy while Clarke bandaged the wound with a poultice. She was using every healing method she could think of. The sick Blake was waking up and moving around, making it difficult to tie the bandage especially since he still had her other hand. 

“Hey, Bellamy, just try to lie still okay? We’re gonna take care of you but you have to stop moving.”

He grunted turning his head towards her.

“Clarke? Hurts.” 

The blonde scrunched her eyebrows in sympathy, he sounded miserable. She squeezed his hand and rubbed the back of it with her other, his fingers curling in hers.

“I know, but hopefully the tea will make you feel better soon.”

Octavia looked at Clarke and nodded, thanking her in silence as her brother fell back to sleep with a sigh. Clarke just hoped the tea would work. She didn’t know what she would do without the feverish idiot.


End file.
